Fused Terror
by Moosashi
Summary: Right after Link and Midna finish collecting the Fused Shadows, they run into Zant. However, something unexpected happens to the Fused Shadows during the conflict, bringing out the true form of them.
1. Prelude of Terror

A.N. This idea came to me in a spur-of-the-moment. I'm not sure how well it will work out, but I suppose we'll see. This is my first attempt at working with the Zelda universe, though I'm assuming it won't be much different than any other place on this website. I have not worked the whole plot out yet, so I left the genres for this on "General." Anyways, enjoy!

* * *

><p>An orange hand reached out and seized from the blue-garbed warrior an ancient relic.<p>

"Finally," the warrior's floating shadow companion stated, "With the power of the Fused Shadows I can end Zant's reign!" Her determined voice echoed throughout the gigantic room.

For a moment, the blue-garbed warrior didn't reply. He simply stood there, staring at his companion; his mind having a tug-of-war match between the idea of him being used to do her bidding—a tool, one could say—or if helping this small imp was actually for the greater good of all things. He really couldn't decide. Whenever he leaned to one side, something happened that pushed the uncertainty back into him; whether it was her aiding him, or her leaving him out when she spoke. Now that he thought about it, she had just done the latter again.

He let out a sigh as he watched his companion zap the ground with Twilight Magic, changing a small portion of the ground into a black, swirling portal. She hovered over it now, and turned to watch the blue-garbed warrior that just stood there with tired eyes.

"Come-on, Link." She called. He didn't budge though, and instead he let himself collapse backwards, breaking his fall with his hands as he landed on his rear. He was soaking wet and his body was trembling in exhaustion from his previous battle. He couldn't move, he wouldn't move; he was getting a break whether she liked it or not. Her brows furrowed. "We don't have time to waste. Come-on!" She demanded.

Link simply shook his head in response. He lowered himself into a lying position and closed his eyes. For a moment, there was silence, and he almost succumbed to sleep; but then a large drop of water landed on his forehead. His eyes opened. Far above him was the culprit—the ceiling. He let out another sigh. He was so sick of water right now. Before he could close his eyes again, his companion came into his view.

"Oh, all right," She said in defeat, "I guess I could let you rest for a while." Although her comment made him feel like a tool, he was glad she agreed to let him rest. She twirled in the air above him, coming out of her shadow-form before sitting next to him.

She summoned the three ancient relics that they had spent the last few weeks risking their lives to collect and laid them out in front of her on the ground. Staring at them in awe, she wanted nothing more than to combine them right now and feel their power surge through her, a power that would crush Zant and allow her to reclaim her realm. But that would have to wait. That would have to wait all because Link needed to rest. She crossed her arms over her chest in frustration, but let it subside as she realized that she wouldn't have the Fused Shadows without his help. He deserved the break, she concluded.

"You know," She started as she reached out and touched the surface of one of the Fused Shadows, "These are from your world. The world of Light." Her eyes narrowed slightly as she examined even the minute of details on its surface. "Your people have a knack for banishing things to the Twilight." Her voice was ridden with disgust. Whatever it is that the Fused Shadows were, they were in no way the same thing now. The Twilight had changed them. As her tiny imp hand brushed across the surface of the Fused Shadow, she could feel something: something dark and mischievous, something eerie and terrible, something _evil_. It was very faint, however, and the power of the Twilight was containing it quite well—or perhaps it was simply masking it? Either way, it caused her to shudder.

Silence fell upon the two, and for a moment she thought Link may have been asleep; but then he gave out a loud yawn that told her otherwise.

"Listen, Link…" She let her otherworldly eyes fall upon his face.

Link's tired eyes opened and locked with hers. "Midna, what happens once we defeat Zant?"

Midna's gaze drifted from his, and for a moment she didn't know how to reply. "Then the Twilight can be pushed back without resistance. Your world will return to normal, and I can return to mine." The latter thought saddened her. She wouldn't deny that she had developed a strong bond with this "hero chosen by the goddesses." He had helped her through all of this, and he had grown on her. His ways, his morals, his selflessness—all of it was rubbing off on her. He had changed her, and it was obvious to her that it was for the better.

"Link, I really do appreciate all that you've done for me." Her gaze went to the ground as she spoke. Words like this were foreign to her tongue, but she found the courage to continue. "You've done so much without question, and all because I told you to. I know our goals are the same, but…" She stopped, not knowing what to say anymore, so she went in an entirely different direction with her words, "I know we can beat Zant. I just know—"

She heard a snore and glanced over at Link. He was fast asleep. She gritted her teeth in frustration, but let it go with a long sigh. She turned her attention back to the Fused Shadows and zapped them with Twilight Magic, watching them disperse into tiny black blocks. She lay down and closed her eyes, and as she did a sudden fatigue washed over her body, causing her to fall fast asleep.

Midna woke first, and didn't waste any time in waking Link up.

"Come-on, Link! Break is over!" She shouted as she nudged him with that magical orange hand. The warrior rose surprisingly quickly, and soon he was standing inside the swirling black portal that Midna had created hours ago. His body dissipated into tiny black blocks that flew skyward. At first, travelling like this made Link sick to his stomach. But after teleporting around here-and-there, he got used to it.

His body reformed as the tiny black blocks descended to the ground. Midna had taken him to the Light Sprit's den of Lake Hylia. He turned around, his eyes towards the ground for just a moment as he began to walk, but stopped dead in his tracks with a loud gasp as his wide eyes trailed up the figure that stood in his path, finally falling upon the wicked mask belonging to Zant. It all happened so fast:

Link's hand immediately went to his sword and drew the blade.

Midna materialized herself next to Link with the Fused Shadows now combined and worn around her head.

The Spirit of Light with the embodiment of a large snake burst from the waters.

Zant had little time to prepare. This was too overwhelming even for him and his newfound power from his "god." He focused his energy around him like a bubble, forming an invisible barrier between him and the oncoming threats.

Midna began to lose control of her body as the Fused Shadows activated. Her body was being consumed by a glowing energy, and Link was raising his blade to strike at Zant, all while the Spirit of Light readied for an attack. Before either Midna or Link could strike, the Spirit of Light let out a dazzling burst of light energy. It blinded Link, sent Midna flying while incinerating the energy from the Fused Shadows, and tore Zant's shield apart little by little until he retreated by teleporting.

As fast as it had begun, it was over.

The Spirit of Light faded as it sensed no danger. Link held his hands over his tightly shut eyes, his face cringed in pain. He could feel his eyes burning and could see bright blotches in his vision from behind his closed eyelids, as if he had been looking at the sun for minutes straight. After a few seconds he opened his eyes. Everything around him was blurry, but slowly his eyes began to adjust. He surveyed the surroundings, looking for his companion.

"Midna!" He called out desperately as he stumbled forward. The pains in his head along with his still-blurry vision were messing with his balance. "Midna!" He called out once more. He noticed something small and black moving and rushed to its side.

"What…happened?" The small imp questioned in a daze. She pushed herself up off the ground and shook her head violently. She was piecing together the short event in her mind, and suddenly became alert as she remembered the Fused Shadows. She gasped. "Wh-where are they?" She panicked, now floating in the air and looking around frantically. She hastily floated around the area, searching and searching for the ancient relics, but found no traces of them; all while Link stood idly by, staring down at the spot where he had found Midna.

"Midna…" Link called out tonelessly.

She gasped in excitement, "You found them?" She asked while hastily floating over to her companion. She turned to Link as she neared, and then followed his gaze to the ground where she was met with confusion.

There, before them on the ground, laid a heart-shaped object of intricate colors: purples, oranges, yellows, reds, and greens, all in weird symmetrical patterns. But the most ominous of all was the set of eerily vivid eyes that stared back at the two onlookers.

* * *

><p>A.N. That wraps up the first chapter. I would like to say that I'm not the fastest of writers, so it may be a while before an update. I hope you enjoyed!<p> 


	2. Seeping Curse

A.N. Most definitely has been a while since I updated this (or anything for that matter). In response to my one reviewer, however, I am glad to tell you that I now have a generally solid idea of where I'm going to take this story. The time frame of Twilight Princess that I'm working with turns out to be nigh perfect for a Majora's Mask tie-in!

* * *

><p>"What is it…?"<p>

Link didn't respond to Midna's question. For one, he didn't know the answer. Secondly, he was too entranced by the set of eyes on the object before them. It was as if the eyes were peering into his soul, searching for something.

Searching for what?

He backed up abruptly, a chill running down his spine.

Midna reached out her magical orange hand and lifted the object. She turned it around slowly, examining it carefully.

"It's a mask." She stated bluntly. The colors were vibrant and created wild patterns, and there were large spikes protruding from the lower sides of the mask. Much like Link, she found herself lost in the eyes. Strangely enough, the eyes on the mask bared a resemblance to her eyes. It made her feel uneasy, so she quickly turned it away and zapped it with Twilight Magic. It began to turn into tiny black blocks that then vanished.

"We lose the Fused Shadows and get stuck with this mask!" Midna fumed, greatly frustrated by the current situation. Everything was going perfectly too, until that Spirit of Light interfered. She would have crushed Zant with the power of the Fused Shadows; she would have broken the curse on her and returned to her true form; she would have become a peaceful ruler over the realm of Twilight. She would have gotten all that, but instead she got a mask. She was furious.

"What do we do now?" Her warrior companion asked, turning to her for guidance.

His question only made matters worse. She hadn't thought about it until now, but they no longer had any plan. There wasn't supposed to be anything after gathering the Fused Shadows and defeating Zant. She had been so sure of her plan that she hadn't thought of a back-up one. She brought her tiny hand to her chin and pondered for a minute. She wanted to propose that they go to the Mirrior of Twilight, but she knew they no longer stood a chance against Zant, so she decided on her second option.

"We go see Zelda. She'll know what to do."

How far they had made it before nightfall was impressive, as was the completely eventless travel they experienced. While it was certainly strange, Link couldn't have been more thankful for not having to draw his sword for once during their travel. He sat near the fire that he had made for camp, the light of the flame dancing around on his warm face. On the other side of the small fire sat his imp companion, and before her on the ground was their newly acquired mask. She stared at it, taking care to avoid the set of entrancing eyes.

Link was still weary from the day. He hadn't gotten a complete rest earlier, and now was the perfect time for him to catch up on some sleep. He let himself gently down on his back and gazed up at the moon with heavy eyes. Giving out a loud yawn caused his eyes to close completely, and when he opened them just barely he saw a ghastly smile and a set of eyes so deep, so hollow, so sinister; he shot straight up and let out a yelp before crawling backwards.

"Ha, gotcha'!" Midna proclaimed as she hovered just inches from her companion's face. Covering her face was that mask.

He rubbed his eyes as he ignored the imp's playful words.

"You should have seen the look on your face!" She told him lightheartedly. He still didn't pay her any attention and instead slowly lifted his gaze to the moon, anticipating seeing whatever it was he saw once more. He sighed tiredly upon seeing the blank and glowing moon.

The imp removed the mask and joined the warrior's gaze in curiosity. "What is it, Link?" She pondered aloud. She heard him sigh and move into a lying position before she dropped her gaze from the moon. She floated there for a moment and watched him lay there. He didn't budge at all, so assuming he was asleep, she started to wonder how the man could fall asleep that fast. "We'll get an early start." She commented, which earned her a moaning protest from Link.

Not long after everything fell silent but the crackle of the fire, the imp laid down to rest. She lye there, thinking of the events up until now, and what could possibly done from this point on.

A sudden howl of wind sent her upright and alert. Her bright yellow and crimson eyes surveyed the dark horizon that fell like a shroud beyond the light of the fire; but there was nothing to be seen, as far as she could tell, anyways. Reluctantly and still on edge, she laid back down. An eerie sensation had taken a hold of her, and she couldn't get rid of the feeling that she was being watched by something vile. She snapped her eyes shut expecting it to help ease the feeling, but it didn't. She never looked up to see the demonic entity that was the moon glaring down at her.

* * *

><p>The duo's talk with Zelda left them with new knowledge and a new goal. They had learned of a great power that lay dormant within a sacred grove, which was hidden deeply in the Faron Woods. There, in the remnants of an ancient, long forgotten temple, was a sword that could prove immensely valuable to defeating Zant.<p>

"The Master Sword – the sword of evil's bane, huh?" The imp pondered aloud from within the warrior's shadow. "If it really is powerful, just think of all the time we could have saved by just taking this dumb sword and killing Zant with it." She made it seem like fighting Zant would be a trivial task. Link wasn't cocky though, and he knew better than to underestimate an enemy.

Link continued to brush past the crowds of people on his way out of Castle Town. There were children running around playing, workers running errands, guards patrolling the streets, an oddly garbed man in purple carrying a large pack, a clergyman pleading for donations, and Gorons selling goods. He turned down an alleyway, passing the bug-collector's home, another guard, an oddly garbed man in purple carrying a large pack, and a ton of cats that instinctively followed Link. He couldn't help but momentarily stop and hold one until his imp companion bickered at him. He stopped at the store and stocked up on some arrows, and on his way out ran into the postal man.

"Hey, Mr. Link! A Letter for you!" He said cheerily as he reached into his pack. He pulled out a letter in which he handed to the warrior. "Well, my business is concluded!" He saluted before speaking again, "Onward to mail!" And then ran off kicking up a cloud of dust.

From his shadow, Link heard the imp's voice, "That man is way too happy with his job."

Turning the letter over in his hand, a perplexed look found its way onto Link's face. "That's strange," he began as he slipped his finger under the fold and tore the sticker of a mask that held the envelope closed. He pulled out the contents and opened them, revealing a blank parchment. "It's blank." He stated dully.

"What kind of idiot would waste their time sending a blank letter?" He heard from his shadow. In response to the question, he searched both the parchment and envelope for any writing that would indicate who had sent it; but there was no writing on either other than "kNiL" on the front of the envelope. On his last stride out of Castle Town, he passed one more person: an oddly garbed man in purple carrying a large pack.

He walked rather quickly down the long bridge leading out of Castle Town. Once he was far enough away he was going to have Midna transform him into beast form to speed up their travels. A second set of footsteps echoed on the bridge.

"You're being followed, Link." He heard from his shadow. He stopped and turned around, but quickly backed up noticing the sudden lack of distance between him and the figure.

"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?" The words came slowly out of the crooked smile of the man garbed in purple. Link stared captivatingly into the man's wicked expression as the words lingered in his head, repeating themselves over and over. He had heard those words before, had he not? Suddenly the man's expression took a drastic change as his brow furrowed and his crooked smiled reversed. "You have it. Give it back!"

The sudden rage from the man made the warrior defensively back up. Before he could muster an inquiry to the man's request, he raised his voice again.

"You must give it back!" This time the man angrily lunged at the warrior, who was able to nimbly escape the crazed man's grasp. The man made a second attempt to grab the warrior, who in response started to run away. "You _fool!_" The man yelled in a mixture of rage and desperation.

The warrior kept running and glanced over his shoulder to see the crazed man in purple running after him, albeit far slower. He glanced over his shoulder a second time, noting both that the distance between them was more than enough and that the man had stopped his pursuit. When he glanced over his shoulder a third time there was nobody there.

* * *

><p>A.N. That concludes chapter two. I will not promise a faster update this time around, but finishing this on October 31st would be awesome because of the theme of the story. I highly doubt that will happen though. I hope you enjoyed it!<p> 


	3. Halfway to Terror

A.N. Thanks to all the reviewers so far. It's great to read feedback, even if it is short and sweet! Here is the third installment of this story. I'm not sure I'll make my Halloween deadline, but I'll try. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Paws pounded relentlessly against the terrain, pushing the wolf closer to his destination. The world was a blur as it whizzed past him. He traversed the land of Hyrule as if he knew it like the back of his hand, which to be frank, wasn't so well. Whenever he looked at his hands anymore, half of the time they weren't even hands.<p>

Since they had left the bridge leading out of Castle Town he hadn't stopped running; and now they were somewhere inside the Faron Woods. Neither of them had spoken a word about the crazed man in purple that attacked him. Not that Link could actually converse in his current state. Then there was the letter as well. He couldn't make sense out of any of it.

He could finally feel his legs begin to give out on him. He had really pushed himself to come this far this fast, and now he could go no further. He let his body naturally brake into a brisk walk before coming to a complete stop. Perpetual twilight had long ceased from covering this region, yet in this moment of the day it had returned to bask the land in vibrant fiery colors. His imp companion reluctantly rose into the air from his soft back, and with a snap of her finger he began to change from beast to human. Upon becoming fully human again he collapsed onto his rear and panted.

"Come-on now, if you want to stay warm tonight you'll get your lazy behind up and go look for some logs or sticks."

He closed his eyes and let his head hang back as he ignored his imp companion's words. He sat there for a moment before lying down and grumbling, "Later."

He hadn't realized that he had fallen asleep until his eyes opened and gazing down at him was a dark and cloudy sky. He sat up and felt the cold of the night nip at his skin. Not far from him was a small fire—Midna must have gathered some sticks and started one—but it was dying out. He noticed her curled up near the waning fire, its dim light dancing on her majestic skin. He took responsibility and set off to find some more sticks.

As he progressed further away from his imp companion, his camp, the dying fire, it grew increasingly foggy; so much that when he looked over his shoulder he couldn't see the light from the dying fire anymore. He couldn't tell much in regards to his current surroundings, and even the ground was beginning to become unclear due to the thickness of the fog. He couldn't help but wonder what was causing this crazy fog, or more importantly, where all the sticks were. He was in a forest, for goodness sake—where were all the sticks?

He suddenly tripped, and upon gathering his senses from the harsh landing, grabbed through the fog for whatever it was that made him fall. As if by some divine prank it was a large stick. He took it and tried his best to ignore the feeling of being taunted that manifested in his gut. He rose and continued his search for more sticks.

He could see something through the fog now—it must have started to lift. It was still blurry, but it was brown and green, he was certain. A tree, it had to be a tree. Where were all the trees anyways? He was in a forest, for goodness sake. As he drew closer and closer he could make out more of it. It was shaped like a human, which warranted the tree theory invalid. Around its torso were green garments and atop its head was a silly, floppy green hat. He knew who it was or, to be more precise, _what_ it was. Before him in the thick fog stood a statue of himself that carried a blank, spine-tingling expression on its face. He shivered, chills running down his spine that weren't caused from the cool air.

He chose to ignore the statue, to the best of his ability, and continued to search for more sticks. Much to his dismay he was unable to find any, but soon he could see something in the fog ahead of him once more. Upon closing the distance he saw it was the statue again. He examined it this time, although only momentarily as he felt like something was pulling him in mentally as he looked at it. He walked away, this time walking to the right of the statue. He hadn't walked far until he could see something up ahead in the fog. He swallowed as he drew closer.

It was the statue.

By now he was rather troubled, or perhaps even fearful of what was going on. He had to get back to his imp companion, to his camp, to his dying fire. He broke into a brisk walk, once again travelling away from the statue. Oddly enough, his legs didn't hurt anymore. The fog was still thick and he had absolutely no sense of direction ever since he fell. His destination was clear, but his path was not.

Watching over his shoulder, he could see the statue being consumed by the fog. After it was no longer visible he turned his attention to his front.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

In front of him the statue was becoming visible through the fog.

His movement sped up as he took off in a random direction. He kept his sights focused to his front.

After walking not far, he could see the statue becoming visible again.

He turned from it, yet again walking in another random direction, only to be met with the visage of that statue becoming clear through the fog once more. In every direction there was a statue now, and they weren't sitting still. It was as if he was a magnet drawing them in. His head whizzed around frantically from side-to-side, looking for a way out; his eyes caught a flash of purple as he did, and as he focused on the source of it he heard _that_ question again.

"You've met with a terrible fate, haven't you?"

Standing in front of him, with a crooked smile and carrying a pack of freaky masks, was the crazed man from before. The warrior tried to muster up words, but he found himself stuttering.

From the crazed man's crooked smile came, "You should have given it back…"

In the moment that the warrior blinked, the crazed man in purple had vanished. Thudding echoed in his ears and he soon returned his attention to the statues that were hopping towards him in unison. Gathering what courage he had, he dropped his stick and drew his sword.

Thump…

Thump…

_Thump…_

He stood, nerves screaming and body trembling, as they stared at him with blank, lifeless expressions. He kept his guard raised, his sword out, and swallowed hard. He could feel their stares pierce his flesh and search his soul. He wanted so badly to strike at one of them, but fear kept his body stiff and glued to where he stood.

As if suddenly becoming human, the statues' heads raised skyward. His gaze involuntarily followed suit.

He let out a scream as the demonic entity in the sky smiled wickedly before crashing down onto him.

"Link!"

He could feel small hands touching him as his body shook limply.

"Link, snap out of it!"

It was so hard to hear that voice; loud screaming was drowning it out.

"_Link_!"

He finally came to his senses and realized that the screaming was coming from him, and immediately stopped. His hands went to cover his face and he breathed heavily. His mind was panicking and his body tense. His imp companion hovered in front of him, unsure of what to say or do to help him.

After he had calmed down, he looked around. He somehow managed to end up quite a distance from the camp, from the dying fire. He cringed upon seeing the mask lying next to it. His imp companion had floated back to the dying fire, calling out to him as she did.

"What was all that about anyways?" She asked.

He stayed quiet for a moment, recollecting his thoughts of what had happened which seemed to be like trying to remember a dream after waking up.

"Bad dream." He replied dryly.

"Well, come over by the fire." She said, pausing before adding, "Oh, and bring that large stick that's lying next to you. The fire is dying."

* * *

><p>A.N. Things are certainly starting to get strange, eh? Hope you enjoyed it. I would love to see people's interpretation of this chapter as it's the first time I've written a situation like this (in other words, a situation that has two possible outcomes with major supporting evidence on each side). What do you think: was what happened to Link a dream, or was it real? Or perhaps it was something else altogether?<p> 


	4. Haunting Melody

A.N. Here is chapter four, which originally was going to be one long chapter. I decided to break it up into parts however so that I could update faster. Here is part one. I will admit that the beginning is not in correspondence to the game's time-line. Having the cucco scene here sounded more fun then just having a wolf jump across platforms, however. I hope you enjoy! Also a quick note: my use of a tilde (~) means that the word is dragged out. Ergo, "No~" should be read as "Noooooooo..." and so on. Just making that clear.

* * *

><p>Things had surely been strange lately. There was the blank letter, that crazy man in purple that seemingly haunted their presence, the statue from last night, the demonic moon, and that mask; but this—<em>this<em> was just _absurd_!

"To cross the gorge, just use my partner here." Rusl, a man from Link's hometown had told him before whistling. The pitter-patter of tiny feet had been heard. Something had been scampering towards them, and it hadn't been long before it was in front of them. It had jumped into the air and landed on the man's perched arm.

The look on the warrior's face had been one of bafflement. Had it been because this "partner" was gold and sparkling, or had it been because of _what_ this "partner" was? Perhaps it was both.

Now he was clinging for dear life to this golden cucco that couldn't be more than a twentieth of his size, yet it was somehow managing to fly him across the gorges, however much of a struggle the cucco seemed to be having with its clucking and molting of feathers.

Fly?

It just clicked inside his mind that he was flying with the aid of a cucco, and while it was doing a fantastically fascinating job, he couldn't help but hear his mind screaming at him in a fit of rage as his understanding of reality was falling apart: cuccos cannot fly like this!

His feet made contact with the small platform that was conveniently placed in the middle of the gorge. His feet shuffled and scrambled in attempt to brake, but the cucco he held onto had other plans. For such a small creature it had quite a torque, and it pulled him off of the platform almost as quickly as he had landed on it.

The course he was on was not a good one. At this rate he would crash into the large tree and miss the next conveniently placed platform.

"No!" he hollered "To the right, cucco! To the right!" He sure was glad that nobody was around; talking to a cucco like this was absurd. Heck, then again, this whole situation was absurd.

The cucco didn't seem to be listening to his commands. After all, it was silly to think that a cucco could understand him. Taking a more forceful approach, he shifted his hands to slant the cucco's body.

He let out a sigh of relief as he began to veer to the right and his course was adjusted just enough to make the landing safely.

His feet made contact…

"No~!"

And then he was airborne again.

His course took him through swinging pendulums of death (which, had the cucco not been pulling him against his will, he would have been killed by) and turning bridges. Now that he was at the end of the gorge, he was ready to murder this crazy beast. Before he could smash the beast into the ground, it broke from his grip and landed in front of him. His hand was about to go to the hilt of his sword, but then his imp companion slid out from his shadow.

"What fascinating creatures!" She turned from him to the cucco, "I _must_ know what they are called!"

The warrior just sighed in frustration and disgust before pushing forward.

* * *

><p>The forestry was thick in this part of the Faron Woods, like a cavernous forest. It was very moist here too, and the way the sunlight just vaguely pierced the ceiling of leaves created a glaring haze in the atmosphere. His imp companion floated close to him in her flesh form while admiring the mask, but her attention of admiration had soon switched to the scenery as she spun slowly.<p>

"It's..." she paused for a moment, "beautiful here."

The warrior was mildly surprised at her choice of words. "Beautiful" was a word he hadn't heard her use in reference to the world of light.

"Do you hear something?" The warrior asked in a whisper as he froze. His eyes darted from side-to-side searching the terrain in front of him for anything threatening.

"No I don't hear any—"

Interrupting her was the sound of breaking branches as a large group of wooden mannequins surrounded them and proceeded to attack the off-guard duo by launching themselves at the two. They collided, an action that sent both the warrior and his imp companion to the ground. The mask slid from her grasp and out of her reach during the collision. The sudden sound of a horn caused the mannequins to shift and press forcefully against their captives.

"Link!"

He could hear her shouting but he couldn't see her through the mass of mannequins. He tried to force himself up but there were too many holding him down for him to force his way out of the hold. Through the clattering of the wooden mannequins, footsteps could be heard, along with a sneering laugh.

"You guys did great! I wonder if they have anything good on them…" The footsteps became louder as whoever it was approached the duo, and now within their view was an odd, human-like creature. There was a pause as the warrior and this creature's eyes met. "Huh?" The creature then murmured, "This guy…" It examined the warrior momentarily before turning its attention to the imp, in which upon doing so it caught sight of the mask. It made its way over to it cautiously and picked it up, saying "What have we here?" It stared into the eyes promptly; it broke the connected gaze, turned it around, and placed the mask on its face.

Everything seemed to fall silent at the moment and all movement ceased.

The opportunity couldn't have been more perfect. In this moment, the warrior pushed forth with all his might in a last-ditch effort to once again force his way out of the hold, although it apparently wasn't needed as the mannequins fell off of him lifelessly. He rose, quickly drew his sword, and charged the odd creature.

He couldn't have been closer when the thing instantly turned around and let out a shriek. Before his blade could pull the life from the creature, some sort of purple aura burst from the mask upon its face and pushed the warrior back. He stumbled into his imp companion who was rising, and they both quickly met with the ground again. The creature danced away from them, twirling and chanting a haunting melody.

And then everything was quiet again.

"Ugh, get off of me!"

The warrior quickly abided as he realized he was crushing his imp companion. She floated into the air gracefully while brushing herself off.

"That _thing_ took our mask!" She spat out in a fit of rage. "Come-on Link, we have to get it back!" She began to float away from him. Sheathing his sword, he followed her.

The place was a maze. The passageways leading from area-to-area sometimes caused relapses in their route. Some parts made them climb—well, the warrior anyways. He almost lost his footing quite a few times. The atmosphere was changing, now becoming overrun by gloom. The imp had that feeling again—the same one from two nights ago. Something was watching her—watching them, she was sure of it.

"I can hear that stupid song of his." The imp stated in disgust. "It seems to be getting louder. I think we're going in—ahh!"

The second the sound of the leaves ruffling and branches snapping rang in his ears, he drew his sword and leaped forward, pushing his imp companion out of the way. Landing around him was another group of animated wood mannequins. He swung instantly and took one out.

Or so he thought.

As soon as the mannequin hit the ground, it shot straight up like a Deku Baba. Upon examination, the warrior noted that these mannequins were different. Their arms were thin and sharp and their faces were shaped and detailed like that mask.

He raised his shield and blocked its swift attack, then ducked under another's, retaliated against a third with a shield bash and then followed through with a quick slash. It didn't seem to do much, as the second the mannequin connected with the ground it shot straight up like the other.

'Link, behind you!"

Acknowledging his imp companion's words, he nimbly evaded the fatal lunge of the fourth mannequin; but he could do nothing to stop the following attack. His arm took the hit, severing the skin. He grunted, but did not lose his focus. Taking a quick summary of his surroundings, he decided upon the best course of attack and unleashed a vicious circular slash all around him. All four of his opponents were knocked flat onto the ground; not that it did much good, as they instantly rose. He raised his shield again.

"Any ideas?" He threw the question hastily at his imp companion before the mannequins engaged him once more. Before she could think of a reply an eerie laugh pierced their ears. She located the source and saw the creature with the mask sitting on a tree branch, its feet dangling and kicking in the air.

"Up there, in the trees! Link, shoot him!"

"Bit busy here!"

His leg took a minor hit, but he refused to flinch. The four mannequins were assaulting him from the front. He was having an extremely hard time keeping up with blocking the eight sharp arms trying to cleave the skin from his body. His back rammed against a tree and he could no longer back up. In a moment of desperation, the warrior let loose a powerful horizontal swing, once again knocking all the mannequins backwards. However, the attack beheaded one of the mannequins. When they hit the ground, only three of them rose—the one without a head stayed down. Now he knew out to beat them; yet he let out a sigh knowing that this process was going to be difficult.

Pushing forward, he performed two quick slashes to knock two of the remaining mannequins back. He did a quick spin to gain momentum before unleashing a strong enough swing to behead the third mannequin. Much to his dismay, however, the mannequin—as if by gaining intelligence—ducked underneath the path of his sword and slashed at the warrior's legs with both of its sharp arms. The injuries he sustained weren't too severe, although his legs were bleeding rather plentiful now from three open wounds. He couldn't prevent his body from collapsing to one knee, and as much as he would have liked to, doing so actually aided him as it put him on level with the mannequin in front of him. Drawing back his sword and in one swift and mighty swing, the mannequin's head flew from its body.

The other two adversaries were already on top of him by the time he could rise to full height. They pushed him to the ground, but before they could attempt to harm him, he managed to throw one off and bring his shield over his torso to stop the second's jab. In retaliation, the warrior bashed his shield into the mannequin, an action that overwhelmingly forced it off his body. He curled his legs and hastily launched himself upright.

His imp companion called out in his defense again, "Behind you!"

Knuckles cracked as his grip around the hilt of his sword tightened. Turning around he let loose another devastating slash that beheaded the third mannequin.

"Would you shoot him already?"

Rolling his eyes (and making sure the last mannequin was not close enough to harm him), the warrior pulled the bow off his back, readied an arrow as he aimed towards the odd creature, and let the string loose which was proceeded by a short whistling sound from the arrow.

It struck with immense precision—hitting the creature in the side of the head. Upon impact its head fell limp to one side. No motion could be seen within the creature's body; that is until it began leaning slowly backwards before falling off and being blotted out of sight by the branch. Its body never reappeared from behind the branch. It was as if its body evaporated without a trace.

"Where'd he go?" The imp questioned aloud.

Not forgetting the danger at hand, the warrior readied a second arrow and hastily raised his bow in front of him and almost as quickly lowered it: the fourth mannequin laid sprawled and motionless a few feet from him.

"Ugh!"

The warrior's attention turned to the source of the frustrated grunt which was his imp companion.

"Let's keep going." She said with almost no concern for the warrior and his wounds, "We have to find that dumb sword."

* * *

><p>A.N. Sorry for the anti-climatic end of this chapter. It was the only decent part to split the document at. Chapter five will be up within five to ten days though! Hope you enjoyed!<p> 


	5. Dimly Lit Reaches of the Heart

A.N. All right so it was more than ten days - my apologies. There is no excuse for me to have put this off for so long. To make matters worse, it's part two of the original chapter four (remember I split it), so there will be another abrupt ending here. Nonetheless, I do hope you enjoy, and feel free to skip down to the line-separator if you do not wish to read the short review replies.

SilverFlameoftheWindScar - I'm glad you're enjoying it and that I'm able to keep you on your toes! I honestly didn't expect such praise because when I started writing this entire story I had no idea where I was going to go with it. Pieces just kind of fell together, I guess. And yeah, most of the time it's only horrifying for the characters. I hope you continue to enjoy reading this!

ninjafaceify - More you shall have! Unfortunately, I do not believe he will be getting that mask. Terribly sorry!

Lleu - Thanks for your input - it is appreciated. As for not using names as you pointed out, there is a reason: it is my personal opinion that names in writing stop the flow; they cause the reader to re-register who the character is and that whatever follows the name is affecting said character, whether it be actions or speech. While names are incredibly useful and nigh necessary when working with a group of indistinguishable characters, when there is only few who can be distinguished by a vastly different characteristic, then names tend to impede the situation. In other words:

He/She/It/etc. - These are passive.

Link/Midna/(Any Proper Noun) - These are active.

Hopefully that sheds some light as to why I'm hardly using names. Again, this is my opinion. I certainly hope you enjoy this chapter more, and more feedback is certainly appreciated!

* * *

><p>They traversed further into the maze of forest. Each step pained the warrior, but pain had been something he became accustomed to throughout his journey. Pain was, and would always be, everywhere.<p>

"Are you okay?"

The warrior nodded to her question, although minor limping told otherwise.

"If you need to rest for a while…" She let her words trail off. She knew that letting him rest would be the sensible thing to do, but she really wanted to find that sword and get out of this place.

And the mask—they had to find the mask too, of course. She couldn't leave without the mask. No, they needed to find the mask. She needed the mask.

She shook her head violently in an effort to disturb her train of thought.

"No, I'm okay. Let's just find that sword." The warrior replied to her.

"And the mask."

He didn't reply to her right away, but eventually reluctantly agreed "…and the mask."

They came to an area with water. Taking just a few seconds, he splashed the water onto his wounds to cleanse them. It burned slightly, but he felt invigorated afterwards.

"Do you hear that?" The imp shushed him after speaking, and he listened intently.

A haunting melody could be faintly heard.

"It's him!" She exclaimed before hastily floating off in the direction of the sound.

The warrior followed her intently, catching up with her quickly despite the condition of his legs. This area was noticeably darker than the others, albeit the dancing light of a lantern playfully illuminating the terrain. He drew his sword, raised his shield, and stood cautiously near his imp companion. They crept closer and closer to the wall of dancing firelight, ready for the creature that they were certain stood around the corner. The warrior's focus was keen and he knew better than to focus just on this approach. His eyes surveyed the scenery, back-and-forth, searching for movement. He wasn't about to get ambushed for a third time.

Suddenly, the firelight on the wall vanished.

"No!" The imp spat out and hastily floated to get a look around the corner, "He got away again!" Her tiny hands clenched into fists.

The warrior still moved cautiously with his defenses raised as he began closing the gap between him and his imp companion. Like before, he kept his head locked in one direction yet scanned everything within his range of sight. Slowly, step-by-step, the gap closed.

His imp companion grew impatient and rolled her eyes saying, "Come-on, Link. You are being way too cautious. He's not here." She quickly looked around to confirm this, and then continued, "Let's get going before he gets too far."

The warrior sighed; perhaps he was being paranoid. Lowering his shield and sword to his side, he picked up his pace and soon the two were off again, wandering the maze of the cavern-like forest. Their only guide was the dancing illumination of fire on the walls and the haunting melody from the creature—as much of a "guide" that it was could be easily argued, as the firelight and melody always stopped when they got too close. One thing was certain though: they were being led to something, as they never backtracked.

After an hour of following the creature's whimsical ploys, they finally came to a vastly different area. Laid out below the ledge they were on were pillars and stone walls in some parts; it looked as if the forest had grown around an ancient decaying ruin.

"There he is!" The imp murmured between her gritting teeth.

Standing atop a tree trunk in the center of decayed ruin was the creature. Not waiting for his imp companion to bark a command at him, the warrior drew his bow, readied an arrow, pulled the string back, and released it. It was a perfect shot, like before—except this time the creature moved, although just barely; the arrow whizzed past its left ear. The warrior tried again, but his effort was in vain. In retaliation, the creature jumped up-and-down furiously and a wave of energy pulsed from the mask it was wearing. A few short seconds later, the treetops rustled and bursting from the thick leaves were two more manikins. One landed behind him and assaulted him quickly, and the other landed below him down the ledge. He turned to face his foe, but without sword and shield in hand, the warrior was forced to hop backwards to avoid the attack. Unfortunately, he was too close to the ledge; his feet caught the ledge unfavorably and slipped. Gravity consumed him and he fell.

Extending her magical orange hand in alarm, the imp intended to catch her plummeting warrior. Her action was cut off by the manikin, however, as it leaped at her. She was forced to pull back to escape the sharp clutches of its arms. The little time she had to save her warrior was gone.

But he wasn't about to let this fall be the end of him. Clamping his legs together around the long moss hanging from the ledge, his descent began to slow. He could feel painful tension on his leg joints, but he was able to successfully come to a complete stop. Of course, the fall was only half of the problem, because just a few feet in front of him the other manikin was charging. Hanging upside-down defenselessly as he was, the warrior fumbled to ready an arrow on his bow. He did what he could in the short time, and when the manikin leaped for its target, he let the arrow fly. For such a circumstantially difficult shot, the arrow made quite the impact, hitting it in the neck and knocking it to the ground.

Shifting his legs slightly to release some pressure, the warrior let his body gradually slide the rest of the length of the moss. He planted his hands onto the ground and brought his legs down, and then rose to his feet. In that time, the manikin had risen and was lunging at him. Leaping to the side, the warrior dropped his bow and hastily drew his sword forcefully as an attack that ended in the decapitation of the manikin.

Above him the warrior heard the knocking of wood and, when he gazed skyward to see, he saw the other manikin come sliding off the ledge in a limp fall. He gripped the hilt of his sword with both hands, lowered his body and brought his arms back, and then thrust upwards right when the manikin was about to land on top of him. The sword went clean through the wood of its torso. Swinging his sword toward the ground, the manikin slid off the blade and landed in a crumpled mess. To finish the job he decapitated his wooden foe.

Before he could even attempt to locate his imp companion the warrior was knocked to the ground and just inches from his face and staring at him were the large eyes of the mask. He struggled as a purple aura emitted from it. The eyes were pulling something from his soul, his mind, and his heart. He didn't know how to resist so he put all his strength into throwing the creature off. During his struggle he felt a great weight lifted from his mind and heart—it was as if all negativity had been erased from his being. When this happened he also succeeded in throwing the creature off. He quickly got to his feet while watching the creature scamper off to the tree trunk in the center. It hopped onto the trunk, turned to face him, and let out a hissing laugh before twirling and vanishing in a shroud of purple energy.

The warrior let out a deep sigh and then heard his imp companion spit out between gritting teeth, "He got away again…!"

In attempt to ease her rage the warrior assured her, "We must be close to that sword." He surveyed the area as he said this to get a better look at the forested ruins and then retrieved his bow.

She almost spoke out about the mask, but she restrained herself.

The duo pushed onward.

* * *

><p>A.N. Shorter than the last, but hopefully just as good or better. Feel free to take a guess as to what happened to Link there at the very end.<p> 


	6. Met With a Terrible Fate

A.N. I'm confident that this has turned out far more eventful than originally planned. I had the privilege of playing through Skyward Sword while writing these final chapters, and these new ideas just came to me after finishing the game. I managed to tie some interesting ideas together in this chapter, and I believe it turned out rather well. There was one line in the ending scenes of Skyward Sword that gave me this idea. Anyways, enough rambling about that. I'll leave it up to you, the reader, to decide if it is ingenious or not.

* * *

><p>They both walked forward instinctively drawn by awe. It was such a magnificently magical area, this circular shrine of the ruin, even though it was practically plain and empty. The plinth in the center—more specifically the blade—was pulling them, calling him—a deep, sinister voice calling his name in nothing more than a whisper. Was he abiding the voice or was he being drawn by his own intentions? He didn't know, but before he even realized it, he was standing over the plinth and his hands were gripping the hilt of the ancient blade; and as they were a feeling of dread devoured him and he hesitated. It didn't go unnoticed by his imp companion.<p>

"What are you waiting for?" She asked as she floated around to his front, "Hurry and pull that sword."

"Something isn't right…" He replied to her. His eyes were dull and wandering.

She gave out a sigh and then spat out, "Of course something isn't _right_! Zant is ruling over _my_ realm and is trying to take over _yours_!"

Closing his eyes, the warrior saw the flash of an entity—giant and black with wild and glowing orange hair. Ignoring it and the dread he pulled the sword from the plinth. With that action the dread washed from his conscious.

"Finally, we can get to defeating Zant!" She exclaimed with joy.

He examined the spectacularly crafted blade in his hand and noted that he didn't feel any stronger.

A familiar hissing laugh caused the duo to turn around in alarm.

Standing in the entrance was the creature with the mask. The warrior sheathed his new sword and brought forth from his back his bow while readying an arrow. A split-second estimation for aim was all he allowed before shooting. The arrow flew towards the creature on a path right for its masked face. A purple shroud of energy once again consumed the creature and vanished with the creature before the arrow could meet its mark. His imp companion grunted in frustration, and both she and he turned to the source of another hissing laugh. Atop the wall of the ruins was the creature.

The creature's head leaned to the side, and then it jumped up-and-down again and hummed that haunting melody before emitting a black aura from the mask. It then sat down and they all watched as the black aura came together into an orb and lowered to the ground where it began to expand and take the form of a kneeling figure.

A very familiar form—the form of a warrior.

The form of _the_ warrior—the form of Link.

Its entire body was the darkest of black and, as it raised its head, it was revealed that its eyes were the bloodiest of red.

"What is…?" Was all the imp could manage.

The figure stood to full height—the same as Link's. Its stare never left the warrior; it was as if he was the only thing it could see. Its arm extended—first forward that caused a weird phenomenon to take place in which black energy was pulled from the warrior's new sword to the black figure's hand—and then to the side with its hand lifted straight. A gruesome sound could be heard as the tip of something pierced outwards through the palm of its hand. Further and further it expanded from the palm and it soon could be identified as a large black jagged blade.

Everyone was on edge in that moment of intensity—even the strange masked creature who was leaning forward. Then, a spark of something in the black figure's eyes: burning hatred consumed in a flame of will. The masked creature burst into wild laughter as the black figure gripped the large blade with both hands and charged the warrior. Once an attack was initiated the warrior hopped backwards in evasion, unsheathing his new weapon as he did. The black figure didn't stop its attack, however, and spun its body to keep its sword from crashing into the ground; doing so allowed it to perform a consecutive albeit less powerful attack that resulted in another evasive maneuver from its target. It repeated its action, forcing itself to perform another spin regardless of the strain, and as its sword came crashing down it clashed with the warrior's ancient blade—the first time the swords had clashed in an unrecorded amount of centuries.

The warrior shifted his feet as he began to wean himself out of the struggle. As soon as he felt his opponent push more strength into it, the warrior made his nimble escape. His actions had, unfortunately, not gone unnoticed by his opponent who let loose a mighty horizontal swing. The warrior just barely had the time to react by positioning his shield; the clash left him completely off-balance. Pushing forward, the black figure rammed its shoulder into the warrior and knocked him flat on his back; not giving him time to react, it followed through by raising its sword and plunging it down at him. It could have—it would have—ended the warrior's life, but the interference from a certain imp gave him just enough time to roll out of the way. He got to his feet and immediately hid behind his shield in analysis as the black figure swung at the nuisance that interfered, but she proved to be too nimble.

The warrior pushed forward while still hiding behind his shield. His opponent was clearly skilled and seemed to be aiming for a quick execution so he had to be as cautious as possible. In a similar manner to him the black figure held its sword out in front of its body defensively as the gap between them closed. Solid blue eyes were locked in the heat of combat with the bloody gaze as the black blade struck out against the shield. It was a powerful strike that caused the warrior's feet to skid backwards. His stance did not falter and his opponent then initiated a consecutive attack that ended in almost the same effect; and then a third that the warrior retaliated against by forcing his shield into the sword. The action overpowered the black figure, causing his arms to recoil backwards which left his defenses completely open. Hastily the warrior let loose with his sword. Each cleave caused bursts of white light to emit from the black figure's body in the pattern of the wound; three in total before it could get away from its assailant.

After retreating the black figure dropped to one knee. Its actions signaled exhaustion or pain—perhaps both. Regardless of the reason, the warrior found it to be a great chance to end the battle. Closing the distance, he brought his sword down onto his opponent. In the blink of an eye the black figure raised its sword in defense with one hand placed on the blunt tip of the blade. The swords clashed, and when they did the black figure gave a mighty push while rising to its feet. It knocked the warrior back and unbalanced his guard. A slash across his stomach could have been a much nastier blow had he not sucked his gut in. He almost fell onto his rear as he stumbled backwards but by some grace he managed to stay on his feet.

The next attack came at him—a jab from the monstrous sword his opponent wielded. He brought his shield arm up and swung it down at the lunging blade, a collision that completely destroyed the accuracy of the attack. Following suit with his sword, he aimed his blade for the neck of his opponent. Ducking caused the attack to fail. Two hands gripped the large black blade and an uppercut was initiated. An opposing force from a shield cancelled out the attack. An earthbound counterattack was evaded. The swords clashed twice, and then a fluke and the warrior grunted in pain. Three more echoes from colliding metal followed by another cry from the warrior.

His legs had been hit twice, both times in the thigh. His torn and battered legs faltered his stance and in that moment the black figure went for the finishing blow. Another powerful lunge for his gut was going to be the end for him. His legs did not respond fully when he commanded them to jump out of the way; the most he got out of them was a small waddle that moved his body slightly to left. The blade cut into his side instead of running him through. Whatever mistake his opponent had made, he didn't care; all he knew was that he was now off to the side of his opponent who was struggling to regain its stance in haste. He forced his legs with every ounce of might he had and managed to get them to move his body with a tiny hop to the rear of the black figure. He almost collapsed from pain when his feet connected with the ground once more. Even that little momentum sent excruciating pains through his legs. Having regained control, the black figure twirled around and swung at the warrior who was about to plunge his sword into the black figure.

There was both a gruesome sound and that of metal-on-metal.

Both figures stood entirely still. The warrior's breathing was labored, but on his illuminated face was relief.

His sword was sticking completely through the black figure, whose sword was resting against the shield on his shaking arm. The black figure was staring straight at him, much like it had during the beginning. Metal scraped momentarily as the black figure fell limply to its knees, its sword following suit before it landed on the ground, hilt still in hand. The pull the fall had put on his own sword caused the warrior to fall to one knee, and once again their eyes became locked. Something was different in those bloody eyes of his adversary: they were becoming lighter and soon he was looking into glowing orange eyes. A flash of a snarl on its face—and then its head snapped backwards. The blackness of its body began to shake violently and seemed to be expanding.

The warrior was at his limit and any attempt to pull the ancient sword from his adversary was futile, as was rising to his feet. Much to his dismay, at that time of weakness the masked creature decided to intervene. It had swooped down and now stood behind the black figure. It held its head forward and soon that purple aura was emitting from the mask. The warrior snapped his eyes shut and looked away in a last effort defense. He could hear a quiet groan that grew to a booming roar, and then he opened his eyes to see what was happening.

The face of the black figure had completely changed. Neon orange eyes and a midnight-gray face detailed with large features and an enormous crisscross scar on the forehead replaced the never-ending blackness and blood red gaze.

"What…" Came from the entity in front of the warrior, "…Is this dreadful magic?" It asked with a straining, deep voice. It gave out another loud roar as its essence began to be absorbed into the mask.

Again the warrior tried to pull the ancient sword from his foe but to no avail. The sword was glowing brightly now and the mixture of lights was making him dizzy. All of a sudden a small figure swept down from the air and snatched the mask from the creature's face. The purple aura began to ripple violently and the roar from the entity grew louder but was drowned out by a high-pitched screeching from the ancient sword that was now glowing brighter than the sun.

And then there was an explosion of white, purple, and black energies.

The creature and warrior were sent in opposite directions. His back hit the ground harshly and recoiled, he did his best to hold onto the ancient sword in his hand, but when he connected with the ground again his fist released and both he and the sword skidded on the ground for quite a distance. When he finally came to a stop, the ringing his ears began to subside and taking its place was his agonizing scream. His scream died down as he clamped his teeth together. He curled his body and exhaled painful groans between his teeth. Once his mind could register something other than the excruciating pain, his hand went out and patted the ground all around. After not feeling what he sought the battered warrior opened his eyes—sight blurry at first—and caught a glimpse of something shiny. Crawling, he dragged himself towards it. Once within reach he dropped his hand onto the hilt, pulled it in, and then rolled over onto his back. His eyes snapped shut as pain surged through his body but then opened to gaze skyward. He hoped it was finally over.

Creeping over his sight was the mask. He shot up in alarm causing another surge of pain through is abdomen.

"Easy, easy." The voice behind the mask reassured, "It's me! Midna."

Examining the tiny hovering body patterned in majestic white and black confirmed that it really was her behind the mask. He doubled over in pain.

"You really overdid it..." She said with concern. Hovering closer, she readied her magic to bring out the beast in the warrior. "I'll take you to Renado. Just hang in there."

A quiet crunching of earth set the imp into alarm. Her attention quickly landed on the creature that had caused them so much trouble. It was standing perfectly still, frozen in a state of sneak as it stared unwaveringly at the imp.

"You!" The imp spat out. Concentrating her thoughts unto the mask she was able to activate its magic.

Two manikins burst from the trees on either side of the shrine and immediately darted towards the creature. Jumping hysterically at first, the creature then scampered off giving out wild cries of distress. The imp snickered. There was a large grin behind that mask. She watched until the three were out of sight before turning back to her warrior. She placed her tiny hand on the mask.

"Hey," She said in annoyance, "What gives?" She tried harder and harder to pull the mask off but was left with no success. She grew frantic and struggled with waning strength. "What's...happening?" Her consciousness was also waning. She curled her body as spasms affected her. She cried out the warrior's name.

Steadying himself as well as he could, he reached out for the mask on her face. Before his hand could reach it a shock wave of energy sent him backwards and skidding onto the ground again. He cringed as the previously dulling pain came back full force. When his eyes opened he was alarmed by the drastic change in scenery; the land around him had become decorated with patterns of blended colors.

He propped himself up with his elbows and took in the situation. Hovering high in the air his possessed imp companion was holding her arms out to her sides as the mask gave out immense amounts of purple energy. Even higher than her was that wicked visage he saw in his dream—the moon; it seemed to be right on top of them, ready to crush everything beneath its mass of weight.

His body was wrecked. There was no way he could fight any more and, even if he could, he would not want to harm his imp companion. If anything was going to save them, it was getting that mask from her and disposing of it. He did not care if that mask was previously the Fused Shadows, he did not care that he would be throwing away nearly a month of life-risking hard work to obtain them, he did not care if it would be advantageous in the fight against Zant; it was getting destroyed if he could get his hands on it.

He bent his knees and pushed off the ground with his hands. The effort required to move his body was tremendous and at first he failed to stand. On his second try he made it to his feet. From his belt he pulled a mechanical device. With his arm fully extended, one eye closed, and device lined up with his imp companion, he pulled the trigger.

The claw-end burst out from the device, a strong chain trailing behind it. She never saw it coming; the claw hit her straight in the face, and it most likely would leave a few marks. It crimpled the mask just enough to grip it, and as the chain began to retract, the mask was pried from her face. It came closer and closer to the warrior while its wild gaze searched his soul desperately for something to grip onto and control as he stared into the eyes. In his other hand was the ancient blade—Evil's Bane: The Master Sword. He drew his arm back and then lunged the weapon forward.

Everything froze simultaneously as the blade pierced through the left eye of the mask. The only thing he could hear was his labored breathing. He perceived a feeling of dreadful eeriness, and then a hollow voice spoke.

"You shouldn't have done that."

The mask began to crumble into tiny sparkling particles and once it completely disintegrated the pseudo-reality around him shattered like glass, leaving nothing but blackness. He looked up, seeing his imp companion falling. He stumbled forward desperately, managing to take two steps before she hit the ground. The world around him returned to its norm, the change making his exhausted mind dizzy. He began to collapse but held himself up by plunging his sword into the ground. It was only momentarily, however, and soon he was lying face down on soft grass.

He could only hope that she would wake before he was met with a terrible fate.

* * *

><p>A.N. And that wraps this up. I thank you for reading this and do hope that you found it enjoyable!<p> 


End file.
